


the lights of the city were too heavy for me

by QueenWithABeeThrone



Series: a tale of two matts [7]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, What-If, please someone give matthew michael murdock a goddamn hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenWithABeeThrone/pseuds/QueenWithABeeThrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"When did Dad die, for you?"</i>
</p><p>Or: Battlin' Jack Murdock died when Matt was nine, in one universe. In another, he lived long enough to see his son get into Columbia. Matt finds out about the latter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the lights of the city were too heavy for me

**Author's Note:**

> for a prompt on the kinkmeme that asked: _During a meeting with his 616 counterpart, Matt learns that his dad didn't die until 616!Matt was at Columbia._
> 
> some chronology notes: this takes place after _seeing double_ , but before _the dead tell no tales_. I should sort out the timeline for this series at some point, honestly.

There are a few adjustments to be made to Matt's apartment, in light of--well, _recent developments_ is how Matt's been calling it in his head, but Karen's description, while longer, is a lot more frank: _that time your alternate universe counterparts and Kirsten crashed on your couch_.

They're still crashing in Matt's place, because he's the only one who has the room for them and the silk sheets to boot. Foggy's place is pretty cramped and leaks often, and has a persistent tracksuit Dracula problem that Matt's been taking care of for some time now, while Karen's--well, there's a reason why Karen stays late at the office a lot. Not good places for three universe-displaced lawyers to go, and in all honesty, Matt doesn't think his apartment's any better, what with the billboard outside, but it's a temporary arrangement, anyway.

He and the other Matt are fixing up the closet and sorting out clothes when the other Matt opens up the box and says, "This is Dad's robe."

"Ah, yeah, that," says Matt, his heart jumping. "I--I kept it. Can't sew like you can, though, so there's a few holes in it."

The other Matt's silent, for once, and Matt kneels down next to him. He knows, from the rasp of fingers across the embossed letters, that the other Matt's feeling the material of the robe, running his fingers across his father's name, remembering. "I had ringside tickets," he says, at last. "For his last match."

"Lucky you," Matt says, with a chuckle. He wonders how a nine-year-old managed to convince his dad to let him come to watch his match. With an icy chill down his spine, he wonders if the other Matt was there when his father died. "I had to watch it at home, I had a whole pile of homework that needed to be done."

When his older counterpart laughs, it's usually a little bit lighter than his, a little looser, but this one is sad, quiet. Mourning. "I remember--Foggy was narrating the whole thing to me, you know? But I could hardly hear him over the crowd, even if he was standing next to me--"

"Foggy was there?" Matt asks. "What--When did Dad die, for you?"

"I was in college," says the other Matt, confused. "I'd met Foggy by that time, of course he'd be there. Why?"

Is it possible, Matt wonders, to be jealous of yourself? Apparently yes, because this other Matt--he's had more time, with his father, than Matt did. Jack Murdock saw his boy graduate elementary school, high school, saw his boy get into college, met Foggy, in another universe.

And something in Matt wants to rage, at how it wasn't _this_ universe. A few more years, a few more moments, even just a second, what he wouldn't _give_ for what this Matt got. What he wouldn't do, to have had his father for just a few years more than he got.

"Dad was--" he starts, then stops, because the grief is bubbling up again. "I was nine," he says, at last.

The other Matt says, "Oh," in a quiet and absolutely devastated tone.

 _How lucky you were_ , thinks Matt. _God, how lucky._

The other Matt bumps his shoulder, offers him a handkerchief. "I'm sorry," he says, quiet, and there is that same grief behind these words, _I'm sorry you had to endure that too, I'm sorry you have that weight on your shoulders too,_ and Matt takes the handkerchief and wipes at his eyes.

"Did he like Foggy?" he asks at last, hesitating.

"They got along like a house on fire," says the other Matt, fondly.

Matt can't help but smile, at that.


End file.
